


Turn Into the Noise

by Goddessofpredators



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Punisher (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Getting Together, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, post-punisher war machine, smut with a little helping of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 00:30:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20957474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddessofpredators/pseuds/Goddessofpredators
Summary: “Thanks for coming to get me.”It breaks the thin silence over the room, making Bucky lift his head from what he’s reading.He stares at Frank for a moment, a little surprised, and replies, “Well, it’s not like we had much of a choice.” After a beat he tacks on, “You’re welcome.”Frank snorts, but he’ll take it.Or; directly post-Punisher: War Machine, after freeing him from custody, Bucky and Frank spend a night together neither one of them will forget





	Turn Into the Noise

**Author's Note:**

> Do I have an excuse for this? Not really, other than wanting these two goobers to just do it already. Enjoy~

“Thanks for coming to get me.” 

It breaks the thin silence over the room, making Bucky lift his head from what he’s reading. 

He stares at Frank for a moment, a little surprised, and replies, “Well, it’s not like we had much of a choice.” After a beat he tacks on, “You’re welcome.” 

Frank snorts, but he’ll take it. 

Bucky watches him for a few beats more, eyes bouncing back and forth between his face and the bullet shells he’s got jangling in his hand. Frank doesn’t look back, opens his mouth and pauses, picking out his words. 

“And I’m, uh... sorry for being such a dick, before.” 

Bucky blinks. Lowers his book into his lap. 

“Are you sick?” 

It makes Frank blow out a rough breath, not even bothering to hide the roll of his eyes as he finally turns to face him. 

“I’m trying that whole ‘being a nice person’ thing, but if you’re going to be the asshole-“ 

“It’s a little late for that one,” Bucky says, giving Frank a look. It softens a second later, and he adds, “But I’ll accept it.” 

The look on Frank’s face borders on surprised, or as surprised as Frank Castle can seem, like he hadn’t been expecting it. The look only deepens when Bucky gnaws on the inside of his cheek and says, “I’m sorry for being a dick, too.” 

Frank stares for a few seconds, maybe stunned it hadn’t ended in a fight; so used to violence and anger and death that a simple act of forgiveness throws everything he is and knows for a loop. Bucky stares back, and wonders how long it’s been since he’s known anything other than pain. 

A moment passes before Bucky finally breaks the gaze and turns it back on the book in his lap. Frank follows suit, clears his throat and moves his eyes back to the disassembled rifle on the little coffee table before him. Bucky’s eyes burn holes into the page he’d left off on, and he finally sighs and closes the damn thing when he realizes he’s been reading the same four words over and over again for the past thirty seconds. 

He glances back at Frank and ponders a moment, then asks, “You want a drink?” 

That gets Frank looking up, squinting. “You got some?” 

“Nat bought a twelve pack at the convenient store earlier, to help us ‘get through the night.’” 

Frank doesn’t have to think on it long. 

“Yeah,” he says, sitting up a little straighter, “Why not.” 

Setting the book aside, Bucky pushes himself out of his chair and wanders over to the little motel mini-fridge on the other side of the room. Pack in hand, he makes his way back to Frank and holds it out, an offering Frank gladly takes. 

“Thanks,” Frank says as Bucky slumps down beside him on the dusty couch. 

Bucky raises his bottle to him, then pops the lid with his metal thumb before downing practically half the whole thing in one gulp. Frank watches him, uses a knife to take care of his own, and mumbles, “Show off.” 

Bucky smirks, lifting his left hand to catch the light. 

“Good for a lot more than punching people in the face.” 

Frank huffs a small laugh. 

“Yeah, I’m sure it is.” 

Bucky masks his smile behind the rim of his bottle, and for a while they drink in silence. He watches Frank taking sips with his head leaned back against the couch and his eyes closed, and he sucks on his lip. 

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Frank,” he admits a few seconds later. 

It gets Frank cracking open his eyes, tilting his head to the side to look Bucky dead on. 

“Maybe a little bit of an ass, but...” Bucky continues. 

Frank makes a face. “Just a little bit?” 

Bucky thinks on it. 

“Eighty... six percent. But that’s still not one hundred.” 

Frank flicks up his eyebrows, can’t argue with it. Bucky reaches over for another beer, motions to Frank if he wants a second, but Frank raises his bottle and gives it a shake to show the little bit that’s left. Bucky settles back against the couch and takes a swig. 

“I don’t really agree with the  _ methods _ you use,” he goes on, and Frank raises a brow at him. “But I think... I think your heart’s in the right place.” 

Something changes behind Frank’s eyes, subtle, but Bucky catches it all the same. That hard edge lightens, taking years with it, and he stares at Bucky with an almost soft sense of wonder. It’s striking enough to steal the breath momentarily from Bucky’s lungs, but it's gone as quick as it came and Frank turns his head down to look at his fingers wrapped around the bottle on his thigh. 

“You know,” he says as he picks at the dead skin on his thumb, “I used to read those old comics of yours. Captain America and Bucky Barnes.” 

“Oh, Jesus,” Bucky says, and it gets a little smile creeping up on Frank’s face. 

“Yeah. Back in ‘Nam, this one guy, he had a whole box of them. Comics, news clippings, old film reels. He was a fanatic, had us watching that shit every chance he got.” 

Bucky grimaces behind his bottle. 

“I guess I owe you a belated apology,” he says when he swallows, and Frank chuckles. 

“Nah, I liked it. Different war, but the morale never dies.” Frank tips his bottle back and drains it, then reaches for another. “I had... have a deep respect for you two.” 

It shocks Bucky a little despite not being entirely new information; something about hearing the words from his mouth, maybe, is what sends a jolt through him. Maybe it’s the fact that Frank feels that way at all. 

“So you do like me!” Bucky cries, leaning a little more into Frank’s space. The smile on Frank’s face widens, and it erupts a swarm of unexpected butterflies throughout Bucky’s stomach. 

“Eh,” Frank says- teases, really, and isn’t that a thing- “I wouldn’t go that far.” 

“Come on, you can’t go back on it now. It’s already burned into my brain. Frank Castle  _ respects _ me. He  _ likes _ me-“ 

“Christ, I take it all back.” 

Bucky snickers, raising his bottle for a sip. He and Frank have moved closer somehow, he notices at the brushing of their arms when he lowers his hand. 

“For the record,” Bucky says, “I do actually like you, too.” 

If Frank’s surprised, he doesn’t show it, instead lifts a brow and says, “And that’s coming from the guy who called me a sociopath?” 

“You did challenge me to a dick measuring contest in the middle of a fast food joint,” Bucky shoots back. 

Frank sips from his beer and glances Bucky’s way, and the glint in his eye is no longer gentle but sharper, like a knives edge, and burning with heat. 

“I wanted to test your mettle.” 

“You wanted to rile me up.” 

“Seems like I succeeded, then.” 

Bucky stares at him for a moment. There’s something simmering below his skin, and he licks his lips, takes his chance. 

“There’s better ways to do it.” 

Frank shifts a little, let’s his body loosen up, his legs spread just that much more. There’s a hungry hitch to his voice when he asks, “Oh yeah?” 

Then, deeper, practically on a growl, “You ready to measure ‘em up now?” 

It’s seconds that seem to go on for hours as the words sink in. Bucky watches Frank, and Frank watches him, a dead heat until finally Bucky slams his beer down on the coffee table and pounces, crushing their mouths together as the sparks around them crescendo into a raging flame. Frank’s own beer gets set aside so his hand can grip at the small of Bucky’s back, pushing to close the gap between them. His other hand smooths it’s way down Bucky’s side and over his ass, and when he gives it a squeeze Bucky makes a noise into his mouth that gets him doing it again harder. 

Bucky retaliates with a slow grind into Frank’s lap that gets Frank groaning himself, mouth agape, and he takes the opportunity to break away and nip his teeth at the edge of Frank’s jaw. His lips trail their way down Frank’s neck and then latch, sucking until there’s a bruise. He can feel Frank’s hand, the one that'd been at his back, as it runs up his spine and stops at his head to tangle into his hair. 

Frank lets Bucky go like that for a bit, biting and marking as he pleases before balling that hand in his hair into a fist and giving it a tug. Bucky ‘ _ ah _ ’s as his head is pulled back and his jaw falls open, dick giving an excited twitch in his pants. 

Frank wastes no time before he’s moving back in and pressing his lips again to Bucky’s own, and it’s anything but soft and sweet; there’s an animal urge in the way his tongue pries it’s way into Bucky’s mouth and licks over his teeth, the way he leans so far into Bucky’s chest that the only place Bucky can go is on his back against the couch cushions. Frank goes with him, crowding over top of him with no chance of escape if he even wanted to. 

A hand rucks up the side of his shirt hungry for flesh, ghosts along goose-pimpled skin to spread flat against Bucky’s stomach, pinning him there. Bucky’s abs tense under the touch, and Frank glides it slowly up to cup one of his pecs, takes the meat of it into his palm and kneads at it like a cat in heat. Bucky hums low in his throat and pushes his chest out, and Frank gets the message, moves his other hand from Bucky’s hair and slides it up to join the first. 

His thumbs flick over Bucky’s nipples, a whisper of a thing, and then, when it gets Bucky sighing and rolling back his shoulders, he takes them between his thumb and forefinger and gives them a pinch. 

Bucky hisses, finally reaches down to grab at the hem of his shirt and lifts himself up enough to yank it off in one swoop, tossing it to the side to be forgotten. Frank dips his head once Bucky’s laid out flat again, buries his face between the mounds of Bucky’s tits. 

He keeps up massaging them in his hands, squishing them up against the sides of his face while he licks and bites and suckles. It leaves Bucky writhing like a baited worm, jolting his hips up to try and find something to grind into, ease the aching pain that only grows harsher and hotter in his groin. Frank doesn’t make it easy as he skims his lips down Bucky’s stomach and laves his tongue over the dips and lifts of Bucky’s abs, keeping himself hovering just enough off of Bucky’s body that he can’t find solid purchase. It’s infuriating, and Bucky makes his dissatisfaction known in the pitiful whine that bubbles up and out between his lips. 

Frank spares him a glance, having made his way down the stretch of Bucky’s torso until his mouth rests just mere inches above the zipper of Bucky’s pants. 

“Please,” Bucky whimpers, and Frank takes pity. He unlatches the belt around Bucky’s waist, pops the button and pulls down the zipper tortuously slow, savoring every single sinful second of it. Bucky’s panting broken, shaky breaths by the time Frank finally pulls his pants and briefs down over his hips to his thighs and takes a moment to look, sucking it up. 

“Not metal,” Bucky rasps. 

Frank ‘hmm’s, tracing calloused fingertips along the side of Bucky’s shaft like a glancing hello. 

“Shame,” he says and revels in the way his touch causes Bucky’s eyes to flutter. “I was hoping for a new experience.” 

“Still got the arm,” Bucky replies, and Frank tips the corner of his mouth up into a barely there smirk before he’s ducking down and closing those red, spit slick lips of his over the wet head of Bucky’s cock. 

It retches a gasp out of Bucky’s lungs and his back bows as Frank takes him in deeper, hands scrabbling for somewhere to grip at the cushions behind his head. 

Frank gives a testing suckle, barely anything, but it still gets Bucky screwing his eyes shut, clenching his jaw to contain the noises that want so badly to break free from behind his teeth. He inhales sharply, gives it a second, then cracks open his eyes, tipping down his chin to watch as Frank begins to bob his head, up and down, up and down. 

The skin of his dick is left glistening with spit each time it leaves Frank’s mouth on a lift, only to be hidden away once again when Frank takes him all the way back down to the hilt, pausing to breathe in Bucky’s scent with his nose buried in the thick thatch of dark hair between his legs, feel the heavy, beating weight of flesh on his tongue and down his throat. His hand reaches to circle his fingers around the base, and after a few more beats he pulls himself off and runs his tongue flat up the underside of Bucky’s cock. 

It wracks shivers down Bucky’s spine, and Frank keeps it up, drags his tongue from root to tip like he’s going at a popsicle, mouths at his shaft and presses kisses against the burning skin. It stuns Bucky’s a little, the soft intimacy of it. The careful way Frank nuzzles his lips over his cockhead, pecks a kiss there, too, before teasing the tip of his tongue against Bucky’s slit. 

Bucky moans, doesn’t fight it this time, and his hips give a little jerk under the steady hand Frank’s got situated over his pelvis to hold him still. 

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky hisses. 

“Mmm,” Frank hums, and swallows him down again. 

It takes everything in him not to scream, and his neck arches back, pushing his head as far as he can into the couch cushions. 

His cock is drooling like a rabid dog and Frank can taste it bitter and harsh as it seeps down his throat, and he sucks, hard, making Bucky convulse and throw up his metal hand to stick into his mouth and bite. 

Bucky’s speechless; of all people in the world, he can confidently say he never expected the Punisher to be so good at giving head. And yet here he is, losing himself to the wet heat of Frank’s mouth as he goes down on him like it’s what he was made for. It’s fucking sin, how good it feels. That he’s doing what he’s doing, feeling what he’s feeling with the person between his trembling legs in the first place.

Frank flicks his tongue back over Bucky’s slit, collecting more of the pearls of pre-come that keep coming and won’t seem to stop, and Bucky tenses, breaths coming sharp and fast, when Frank spares him another glance and, tragically, lifts off completely with a ‘pop’ that paints Bucky’s cheeks scarlet. Bucky, devastated, opens his eyes and looks at Frank with a broken moan, cock swollen and purple as it curves up towards his belly, begging for more attention it won’t get. Frank bypasses it and pinches the skin of Bucky’s hip between his teeth, then sits back on his haunches. 

There’s no hiding the bulge tenting the front of his pants now, and Bucky eyes it, momentarily forgetting about his plight because  _ wow _ , that’s. A lot of bulge. 

His gaze shifts up to Frank’s face, flushed and red from lack of air and arousal, and he puts his elbows down against the couch and pushes himself up to meet Frank’s height as best he can. Frank watches him, leans forwards, and their mouths come back together like they were meant to be. It’s not as rough as the first time, but it’s still hot and heavy with the promise of more, and Bucky fingers at the hem of Frank shirt, a signal. 

Frank pulls back long enough to slip it over his head, and it joins Bucky’s own on the floor. Bucky’s hands plant themselves against Frank’s chest and familiarize themselves with the newly revealed expanse of skin; the pads and ridges of his fingers catch on thin scars and the mangled remains of bullets holes, each with a story to tell. He traces over Frank’s collarbones, down the tense muscles of his arms and Frank exhales a shaky breath against Bucky’s lips. His own hands rest on Bucky’s lower back, atop the swell of his ass, and he sits still and quiet as Bucky explores him, then drifts his hands, metal and flesh, down, down, until they’re making gentle work of Frank’s belt buckle. 

The belt comes off first, and then Frank moves, slinking off of the couch and pulling Bucky with him by the wrist. Bucky rises with him, cock bouncing with each step as their bodies gravitate back together. Lips are locked, electric charges keeping them from drifting apart. Frank grips at the globes of Bucky’s ass above his pushed down pants and squeezes them again like he can’t get enough, and Bucky grunts, ruts up against his belly. Frank grinds back, separated by two layers Bucky’s aching to get rid of, and growls. 

He walks Bucky back until Bucky’s legs hit the side of the bed and force him to sit, breaking them apart. Bucky takes the time to shimmy the rest of the way out of his pants before Frank’s back on top of him. They go down, flat onto the bed, and Frank rolls his hips into Bucky’s own like a wave that leaves Bucky dizzy, voice high and broken on a groan when it bursts from him. His hand traces down Frank’s back and his fingers dip into the top of his crack, teasing, but it gets Frank’s spine curving just slightly, and a low, crackly hum leaves his lips as he moves to stick his head into the crook of Bucky’s neck and bite. 

Bucky hitches a foot onto the bed to use as leverage and pushes his pelvis back up against Frank’s own, and they keep like that, humping up against each other like horny teenagers who don’t know when to quit. 

Frank sticks an arm out and makes a grab for the lamp, trying to switch it off, but it’s fumbling and blind and the only thing he manages to do is knock it around enough it topples over, falling to the floor and breaking glass with a screech. They pay it no mind, but Bucky moves his head and stops them before things go any further. 

“Lube,” he says, and Frank pauses and blinks, then pushes himself up to stumble over to his duffle bag and rummage around. 

Bucky sits up and watches him, and after a few moments of searching Frank looks back with a jar of vaseline in his hand and a raised brow. Bucky nods. That’ll work. Frank gets back to his feet and makes his way back over, ridding himself of his pants and his boxers as he goes, and Bucky’s chest hitches on a noise just at the sight of him. 

“God,” Bucky breathes, and Frank smirks, devilish. 

He joins Bucky back on the bed, jar in hand, and leans in to ghost his lips back over Bucky’s own, a taste he can’t get enough of. Bucky indulges him for a bit, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and tugging, and then his hand is on Frank’s chest, pushing hard to get Frank to fall back into the pillows. 

He lands with a soft ‘_whoosh_’, and his eyes are hooded and darkened with lust as he watches Bucky throw a leg over his waist to straddle him. 

Bucky holds his hand out, and Frank passes him the jar, then settles back to enjoy the show. A smile plays faint on Bucky’s lips, cocky, as he uncaps the lid and swipes two fingers through its contents. The jar gets set aside for later, and Bucky straightens his back, pushes out his hips a little to give Frank a good view of his cock as it bobs with his movements. 

His hand disappears behind his back, and his face scrunches up a bit, concentrating, until a second later that furrow between his brow is smoothed out, replaced by a look of pure pleasure. Frank sucks in a breath, and Bucky can feel the way his cock twitches against his own wrist and his hand where his two fingers are pumping in and out of his hole. His whole body goes jelly soft and pliant with it, head lolling to the side, and he starts to rock, just barely, in time with each fuck in and out. The feeling of Frank’s eyes watching his every move seems to snatch the air from the room; pleasuring himself before this man, showing him every intimate way he makes himself feel good, starts something like a bushfire inside of him, flames licking through his groin and his belly and his chest to the steaming red of his cheeks. 

Frank’s taking it all in with a sense of reverie, cataloguing each and every move to put to his own use later, when it’s his turn to leave Bucky a whining, whimpering mess against the bedsheets. 

Another finger added, and then another, spreading himself wide and loose and ready for Frank’s dick. He teases at that little spot inside, the one that shoots sparks through his brain, and Frank licks his lips at the way and it makes his cock blurt out a wad of wet that drips down to pool against Frank’s stomach. 

“‘M ready,” Bucky tells him, breathless, and removes his fingers. 

Frank takes the jar and slicks himself up, and Bucky shifts back, looks over his shoulder as he takes Frank’s big dick in his hand and guides it to his entrance. They both hold their breath in steely anticipation, and the second it breeches they both moan, rough and wanton at the feel of it. Frank’s hands end up on Bucky’s thighs, fingers digging into the hard meat of them as they flex with the patient strain of Bucky lowering himself until he’s seated nice and firm against Frank’s hips. 

Ragged breathing fills the air, and Frank’s got his head craned back into the pillows, eyes fixated on Bucky when Bucky’s own dart up to meet them. It a second, adjusting, and then Bucky starts to move. 

“Jesus,” Frank chokes. “Shit.” 

That about sums it up. Frank’s so big Bucky’s already aching with it, knows he’ll be feeling it well into tomorrow and possibly beyond. The thought of it has him squirming, and his cock gives a little jerk that Frank tracks with his gaze. 

“Goddamn it,” Bucky breathes, lifting slowly and then gently letting himself back down, trying to get used to it all, “You stick a baseball bat up there when I wasn’t looking?” 

It pries a startled laugh from Frank’s lungs, and Bucky’s snickers too, dropping himself a little harder. 

Frank’s thumbs rub circles against the skin of Bucky’s thighs as they shake, just slightly, once he starts to pick up the pace. Lifts and falls become bounces until the slapping sound of skin on skin fills the room, and Bucky closes his eyes, lets his mouth hang open as he lets go and just  _ feels _ . Feels every ridge and bump and vein of Frank’s dick inside him, rubbing up against his walls and stretching out his rim until it burns. Feels the way Frank’s hands grip onto him for dear life, and his legs pull up to plant his feet on the bed so he can return Bucky’s thrusts with those of his own. 

“ _ Gaah _ ,” Bucky groans, deep and guttural. 

He grinds his hips down, swerving them into the up-hitch of Frank’s, and lifts a hand to run it through his hair. Frank’s eyes never leave him once- he can feel them stripping him more naked than he already is, vulnerable and bare all just for him. The moonlight spills in through the slitted blinds of the window by the bed and douses his back in a pale glow, leaves him silhouetted, and Frank is mesmerized. He sits up as best he can, running his hands up Bucky’s thighs, his sides, and holds him there while they move together. 

Bucky’s own hand falls from his hair and comes to cup the side of Frank’s neck, and Frank pulls him closer and shifts them both, bringing them down until they’re lying on their sides, facing each other. 

Frank grasps Bucky’s leg and moves it up over his hip, and gives a nice, deep thrust that gets Bucky curving himself into Frank’s front on a crackling groan. He pushes down into it as best he can, but Frank’s got the better leverage and molds himself against Bucky’s body, rolling his hips and sending wave after wave after wave of pure ecstasy coursing through his veins. He clenches, and Frank grunts, tugging on his thigh to get him as close as he can. 

They’re drunk on it all, and Bucky can feel it heaping up inside of him, building on itself. He’s sure Frank can feel it too; he’s tense, his hold on Bucky’s thigh white knuckled. 

He gives another thrust and then rolls them again, landing Bucky on his back, Frank draped over him like a blanket- a shield. His hair’s all mussed and sticking to his sweat slick forehead, and something about it tickles a feeling in Bucky’s chest, and he smiles, reaching up to brush it away. 

Frank stares down at him with eyes having long lost their sharp blade of lust and hunger, now something more, a thing Bucky never expected to see in the eyes of a man like him. Nonetheless directed at him. 

He curls his hand back around the back of Frank’s neck and reels him in, and Frank goes willingly, eyes closed and lips parted when their foreheads touch. 

Frank crashes into him, over and over like a drum, and that thing inside of him grows and expands with each snap of hips against his ass. It’s too much. It’s too fucking much and Bucky’s whole body coils up with it like a snake, moaning softly under his breath, little ‘ _ ah, ah, ah _ ’s like music to Frank’s ears. The chorus to the squeaking, creaking rhythm of the bed. 

One of Frank’s hands slithers over Bucky’s arm and comes to a halt over his neck, making Bucky tilt his head back into the pillows. He slits open his eyes, and Frank does the same, and they gaze at each other as Frank breathes and squeezes just ever so slightly. It’s what does it in the end, and Bucky’s free hand flies up to hold on tight to Frank’s wrist as his mouth falls open and he groans, long and hard, as he comes untouched and his dick pulses hot, thick stripes over his and Frank’s bellies. 

It makes him clench like a vice around the cock in his ass and Frank grunts, shocked into stillness, then pulls out hastily and gives his dick two jacks before he’s adding to Bucky’s mess and then collapsing sideways, spent, onto the pillows. 

They lay panting for what seems like ages, trying to catch their breath and give time for their souls to return to their bodies. 

“Jesus fuck,” Bucky breathes on a whisper, and Frank gives an airy, exhausted laugh beside him. It’s funny, how Bucky’s gotten so used to that sound in the past hours. 

He gives it a moment more and then twists, grunting, to grab something from the floor- a shirt, whose, he doesn’t know- and uses it to wipe the come from his skin before he flings it away again. Frank shifts and feels around for the corner of the covers and peels them back once he finds them, and Bucky shimmies his way under, scooting himself until he can lay comfortably with his head pillowed on Frank’s chest. Frank’s skin is damp with sweat, and Bucky breathes in deep through his nose, inhales the scent of it and the tang of sex in the air. Frank throws and arm around his shoulders and and pulls him close. 

“Was this because of the beer?” Bucky brings himself to ask a bit later, when their eyes have closed and their bodies have loosened with the beginnings of sleep. 

Frank doesn’t respond for a minute, and then he says, “This was not because of the beer,” firmly, erasing any lingering doubt. 

Bucky can’t help the uptick of his lips, the satisfied feeling that curls around inside of him at it.

“Good,” he says, and nuzzles his head against Frank’s pec.

**Author's Note:**

> come follow me on my [Twitter](twitter.com/SummerrSoldier) for more Bucky and Frank goodness


End file.
